(This is one of my ten favorite songs ever.  Sundays are for Jeff Buckley.  Day 47…)

It’s not too late…

I never ask where you are
Or where you have been
Because my imagination places a mark in my thoughts
That says “you are here”
Should you
Or I
Ever get lost.

Patience is worn thin like Satin trousers
Made into tents from the campfire in my nearby loins.

Every ruffle of curtain mimics the sway of your negligee.
Open windows match the look in your eyes when..
When you…